


Fucking Casuals

by TheBrilliantDarkness



Category: Dark Avengers (Comic), Marvel
Genre: Homophobic Language, M/M, Masturbation, Rape Fantasy, Sadism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-08
Updated: 2014-01-08
Packaged: 2018-01-08 00:25:08
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,253
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1126167
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheBrilliantDarkness/pseuds/TheBrilliantDarkness
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In the wake of some video-game based humiliation at the hands of Daken, Bullseye indulges in one of his favourite new coping methods...</p>
            </blockquote>





	Fucking Casuals

**Author's Note:**

> This is a fic I started working on several months ago - it was originally going to be a multi-chapter fic, but I totally forgot where I was gonna go with it, so here it is a one-shot instead~
> 
> Warnings for imagined rape and torture.

“Oi, Mac.”

Mac Gargan twisted to face Lester, cocked his head.

“You seen Daken anywhere?”

“Nah,” Mac shrugged and turned his attention back to the TV. “Why?”

“Haven’t seen him in days now. Reckon the fucker’s up to something.”

“Like what?”

“I dunno, planning something. You know what he’s like.”

“Have you tried checking his room?”

Lester fell silent.

When Mac glanced back again, he was gone.

 

*

 

“Fuckin’ faggot, thinks he can take us down from the inside,” Lester muttered as he stomped towards Daken’s room. He fingered one of the throwing knives in his hoody pocket, itching for some action; he hadn’t been sent on even a little mission in over five days and Hand’s efforts to keep all of the psychopaths in Osborn’s Avengers contained to the tower during leisure time had proved successful thus far. What Lester really needed was to spill some blood.

Usually, this wouldn’t have been a problem, even restricted to the tower; Daken spent so much of his time just asking to be hurt that he provided Lester with an output for all those pent up violent urges. Hand tended to just let them fight – Daken’s healing factor dealt with all the abuse Lester dealt out, and Lester would generally back off when he got too aroused by the whole situation – he wouldn’t admit it, of course, but that was the deal, and both Daken and Hand knew it (and, indeed, Daken seemed to revel in it).

Daken’s disappearance over the past few days had upset the delicate ecosystem in the tower and Lester’s unfulfilled bloodlust was making him a danger unto himself. He had tried fucking Karla, only to find it took none of the edge off. He wouldn’t pick a real fight with Ares or the Sentry – he certainly wasn’t that far gone yet – and he couldn’t even start something with Mac for fear that the symbiote might react nastily. Thus, Lester had sulked around the tower, throwing knives, scissors, anything sharp he could get his hands on into walls and employees until Hand had threatened to put him in a straightjacket.

He had finally resolved to find Daken, beat the shit out of him, and go back to enjoying life as an Avenger.

Lester reached Daken’s door. He was going to barge in and throw one of the knives straight into the back of his teammate’s head, but noise from within made him pause. Daken was talking to someone.

Lester pressed his ear to the door.

“Honestly, where would you incompetent prats be without me? I’m doing all the heavy pulling on this mission...”

Ha! Lester knew he’d been masterminding something. Once he’d taught the little fairy a lesson, he’d go report this to Osborn, get the bastard kicked off the team at last. Then he’d be able to really go to town on the fucker...

What would be the best way to go about it? He could stick to his original plan – barge in and incapacitate him with a knift-to-the-skull immediately – but it seemed too safe, too simple. Perhaps going in and opening with a dramatic mission statement would be more fitting now that he was an Avenger?

Unfortunately, Lester was so caught up in his planning that he hadn’t considered that Daken might scent him and come to investigate – thus, he jumped when the door swung open to reveal a bemused and vaguely irritated Daken.

Vaguely irritated and very shirtless.

Lester’s mouth went dry and his hands fumbled uselessly at the weapons in his hoody pocket. The air was suddenly thick, his mind blurring as he inhaled deeply through his nose.

“What’s wrong, Lester?” Daken purred. “Missing me?”

“Uhh...”

“Been too long since you last had your hands all over me, hmm?”

Daken stepped closer, placed a hand on the small of Lester’s back, brushed his lips against the man’s ear. Lester looked blearily into nothing with half-lidded eyes, slack-jawed and trembling.

“You know, you only have to ask...”

A tattooed hand trailed down Lester’s chest, slipped under his hoody and toyed with the waistband of his jeans.

The air changed and it was like a splash of freezing water to the face. Lester jerked away violently. Why the hell was he letting this happen? He punched Daken in the stomach and the man dropped back, winded but smirking.

“Fucking faggot,” Lester growled.

“Takes one to know one,” Daken replied breezily, looking pointedly at Lester’s crotch, where his body’s reaction to recent events had made itself quite clear.

Lester reddened and swung at Daken (who dodged effortlessly). “I know what you’re doing. Gonna be a fucking hero when I take you down and hand you over. You’re done.”

Daken raised an eyebrow. “You’ve lost me?”

“I know what you’ve been doing in there. Your ‘mission’. Plotting against us. Thought you could get away with it, huh?”

Daken laughed, the sound infuriatingly patronising. “Lester, I’ve been playing Monster Hunter. Now, if you’re quite done eroticising with me, I have a hunting party to get back to. I can’t tell you how long it takes to find even vaguely competent players sometimes.”

Lester was speechless for a moment.

And then he started laughing.

“Fucking video games?” he snorted. “That’s what you’ve been holed up in here doing? What are you, fucking ten years old?”

Some of the self assuredness slipped from Daken’s expression and – was that a pout?

“Fuck you, Lester. This game’s beyond your sort of skill level. Go back to fucking Karla, or stabbing things, or whatever it is you do when I’m not around.”

He went to close the door, but Lester stopped him.

“Nah, c’mon, let me have a go. Think you’re so superior even when it comes to fuckin’ video games? I’ll show you, old man.”

 

*

 

“It’s on the Wii U!” Lester howled - he was nearly beside himself by this point. Forget using Daken as a pincushion tonight, this was stellar entertainment all by itself.

“What does that matter?” Daken asked, exiting out of the mission he was meant to be helping on to start Lester off on a new one.

“Fucking casual console, man. _The_ casual console. Can’t believe you’ve been wasting your time playing kids games.” Lester couldn’t wait to tell the others about this – but first, he was going to show Daken how easy his game was, and then maybe hurt him a bit just to get him back for that little stunt he’d pulled in the corridor.

“Not a kid’s game,” Daken grumbled. “Which weapon do you want to use?”

“I dunno, what is there?”

“Ranged or melee?”

“What do you fuckin’ think? Ranged all the way.”

“You can use Light Bowgun, Heavy Bowgun or Bow, in that case.”

“Bow, then.”

Daken changed the character’s weapon and armour.

“Since it’s a ‘kid’s game’, you won’t mind starting out on the hardest difficulty?”

“Fuck sake, just tell me the controls and let me play.”

Daken did a brief rundown of the (admittedly confusing) controls and sent him on a mission in game.

“So where the fuck is this thing I’m meant to be killing?” Lester asked as he ran the character through the desert onscreen.

“You’ll know it when you see it.” Daken’s voice was starting to regain some of that smug self-assuredness and it only made Lester all the more determined to show him how easy his stupid little game was. “Oh, there it is.”

Lester burst out laughing again. The character had just entered another area in the game which was inhabited by something that looked like the bastard child of a T-Rex and a pickle. “Gotta kill this thing? Guess I’m doing the monstrosity a favour, Jesus fuck.”

The creature onscreen bellowed and Lester’s character became immobilised.

“Shit, what the hell?”

The pickle-dinosaur abomination lunged at the character onscreen and took a huge chunk out of his health.

“Wait, how do I heal again?”

By this point, Daken was silently laughing to himself with the enthusiasm of a Disney villain who had just gotten away with something truly dastardly.

Another hit from the monster killed Lester’s character.

“What the fuck? That wasn’t fair! Why do I move so slow? How is anyone meant to do this?”

“You’ve got two more goes at it before you fail the mission,” Daken drawled, shit-eating grin plastered all over his face.

The subsequent attempts went no better than the first.

“This is a shit game!” Lester yelled, and Daken snatched the gamepad out of his hands before he could smash it.

“I thought it was an easy kid’s game?” Daken was looking very pleased with himself.

“It is!” Lester snarled. “Fuck it. I can’t even be bothered with you tonight, faggot. Go to hell.” And he stormed out, Daken’s satisfied cackling mocking him all the way.

 

*

 

So Lester stomped away and did his best to take his mind off things for the rest of the day. He tried bullying Mac, only for him to slither away to whine about him to Hand. After Hand had chewed him out, Lester attempted to watch some mind numbing reality TV. It worked temporarily, but then he became restless again. He tried working out, tried sleeping, tried watching porn and snuff videos. Nothing was making things any better.

He thought several times about returning to Daken’s room and choking the fucker out in front of his stupid game - but he knew the resilient little shit would come out of it laughing and gloating as he always did, and he wasn’t sure he could handle that just then.

Finally, night rolled around, and Lester dragged his frustrated self to bed.

He was in a foul mood. His embarrassment at failing at the game in Daken’s room earlier, combined with his unfulfilled bloodlust and horrifically boring day had left him seething – and so, Lester found himself falling back on one of his new found favourite coping mechanisms: fantasising about all the horrendous ways he could kill the smug sack of shit masquerading as Wolverine in Osborn’s little freak show.

It was unspeakably satisfying to imagine dismembering the little bitch, to wonder how he might cry out as Lester sawed through muscle and bone. Lester thought about ripping his claws out, wondered how long it would take the healing factor to create new ones in their wake just so that he could tear them out over and over again. How badly would he have to hurt the mutant to make him beg for mercy?

Lester swore when he realised he was hard.

This happened a lot when it came to Daken; real or fantasy version. Lester had tried again and again to reassure himself that it was nothing to do with his androgynous teammate and everything to do with his own fucked up blurring of the lines between sex and violence – but such reassurances were little consolation at times like this, when an already shitty day was marked off by getting an erection too painful to ignore over the team fag.

“Fuckin’ Daken,” Lester growled under his breath, grabbing his treacherous cock and squeezing it hard enough that it hurt. ‘That’s what you get you fuckin’ traitor’ Lester thought to his body.

With a resigned sigh, Lester decided that if he was going to wank over the team’s Wolverine, he might as well keep the brutality of the fantasies going. He thought of breaking every bone in the fucker’s body with his bare hands, imagined himself pushing needles into the soles of Daken’s feet, hammering nails into the insides of his elbows and knees. How rewarding would it be to just put his hands around that slender neck and wring it until Daken was limp and blue? He wondered how thrilling it would be to beat that pretty face into a bloody pulp, only for him to heal so he could do it again.

Lester’s hips canted up and he fisted his cock vigorously. Just a little more...

He imagined Daken on his knees in front of him, frightened and broken; saw himself seizing Daken’s stupid hair and pulling his head back, forcing his cock between pretty, bloodied lips and fucking the other man’s throat.

Lester came hard over his stomach and hand.

He would hate himself come morning, but that night he slept soundly.

 

*

 

Lester was awoken the next day by a sharp rap on the door. He grumbled and pulled his blankets over his head petulantly; more knocks would follow if he was needed at a meeting or for a mission and damned if he was going without a fight before midday.

When it turned out to be an isolated incident, his curiosity was piqued. After an exaggerated groan and some rather indulgent stretching, Lester rolled out of bed, grabbed a pair of boxers and slunk over to his door.

There was no one outside when he opened it. Instead, there was a small mountain of objects with a note attached. Lester yawned, scooped up the boxes, and returned to his bed to examine them.

Under closer inspection, he found he had been left a brand new Nintendo 3DS, a sort of attachment for it and a copy of the Monster Hunter game he had failed so spectacularly at the previous day. The note read, in Daken’s unmistakable, perfect scrawl: ‘Enjoy the game, sweetheart. Come play co-op with me at 7pm?’ There was a little heart scribbled at the end of the sentence.

Lester was half tempted to go to Daken’s room straight away and ram an arrow through his face. 

**Author's Note:**

> I have a lot of headcanons about Daken enjoying video games, don't look at me.
> 
> Fun fact: the monster Lester was up against in the game is called Deviljho.
> 
> Hope you enjoyed~


End file.
